Mr. Dr. Professor Sexy - Now With More Drunk Comments!

I'm sitting at my desk right now dressed as a pirate. My division at work spent 4 days decorating our office to look like a pirate ship. Now I'm wearing a scarf on my head and a gun and dagger on my hips. I look so hot it's ridiculous. I'm like the sexiest overweight pirate lady ever. I'll probably be drunk by noon because I brought a bottle of "fake" rum as a prop. It's filled with "ginger ale" and I've already drank a third of it and it's only 8am. I'm totally getting a raise after today.

Last night the Captain and I were talking to the Kiddo about college. Time is fast approaching for him to submit applications to his favorite places and I was telling him stories about all the things I wished I had done and not done while I was in college. Like more drinking, less driving two hours home every weekend to see my loser boyfriend who was cheating on me and also less worrying about him showing up at my dorm room drunk and screaming and less of him threatening to beat the shit out of me and less of him pretending to be suicidal when I tried to break up with him. You know, the things everyone regrets basically.

Then we moved on to his graduation stuff. The Kiddo brought home a packet of crap from school filled with things to buy "for your special graduate". Yeah, my kid is special but he ain't "$80 deluxe graduation package" special. Seriously? $80 for a cap and gown and "souvenir" tassel and 25 invitations that look exactly like the ones I gave out in 1992? No thanks. Captain Carl told the Kiddo that we just don't love him enough to buy him a souvenir tassel. He seemed okay with that.

There was also a letter in his packet that detailed his diploma options. Now, when I graduated from high school, the only option we had was "get one" or "not get one because you aren't graduating". The Kiddo can get just a plain old diploma like I had, or he could get the upgraded diploma, which has drawings of puppies and kittens on it or some shit like that. OR he could get the upgraded diploma in a "special memories" wooden shadow box. For reals, yo.

The Captain: It says here you can have your name on your diploma however you want it.
The Kiddo: What does that mean?
Me: It means you can put just your first name and last name, or add your middle name or whatever.
The Captain: I think you should put Danger for your middle name.
The Kiddo: That would be awesome!
Me: I don't think that is a good idea.
The Captain: You're right...it isn't a good idea. It's an AMAZING idea.
The Kiddo: Or how about Dr. Daniel Danger Jones? (not his real name, of course).
Me: Umm, great except you're not a doctor.
The Kiddo: They don't know that.
The Captain: He has a point.
The Kiddo: Wait! Dr. Professor Daniel Danger Jones!
Me: *sigh*
The Captain: Even better.
The Kiddo: MR. Dr. Professor Daniel Danger Jones!!!
The Captain: Too long, maybe.
The Kiddo: Right. Okay, then I'll just do Mr. Dr. Professor Sexy.
The Captain: That's my boy. *sniffle* I'm so proud.

Seriously, I'm totally outnumbered.

UPDATE: It is now 3:08pm and my boob popped out of my shirt at lunch, but only once and it was totally hilarious. Our division won best group contest and I made about 50 jokes about my ship's porthole. Yep, totally getting that raise.

UPDATED: I See A Trip To The ER In My Very Near Future

Captain Carl has been out of town for a few days and Emo has been here all weekend. He told me this morning he doesn't want to go home...I couldn't get a reason out of him, as usual. So all day I've been force feeding him (because he pretends he isn't hungry and doesn't want to eat all our food) and listening to him and the Kiddo laughing hysterically upstairs at whatever they are watching on the computer. I don't want to know.

I finally sent them outside to do some chores because the Kiddo is broke and I won't give him money for gas or dates unless he does something for me. Emo volunteered to help, so they headed out a couple hours ago to pull weeds. For awhile, I could hear them right outside the front window...laughing and flinging dirt at each other.

Then it got quiet. Anyone who has children knows that nothing good can be happening when it's quiet. This is especially true when it's teenage boys.

I was right to be worried. At one point, Emo walked in and asked me for a saw.

Yeah.

Me: I'm afraid to ask....
Emo: We chopped down a huge tree in the backyard!
Me: What????
Kiddo: Don't worry, it was a weed...a really really big weed.
Me: And you need a saw because???
Emo: To saw it up into little pieces so we can throw it over the fence.
Me: You guys are throwing weeds over the fence instead of bagging them?
Kiddo: Yeah. It's easier.
Me: No saw. Ever. Never ever.
Emo: Awww, come on.
Me: Nothing sharp and pointy.
Emo: So, you probably don't want me using this then.

And he pulled out from behind his back some kind of huge hacking saw thing with a handle that he dug out of the garage at some point. Then I had a heart attack. Then I told him to pull weeds with his hands only please.

A couple of minutes ago, they came back inside and said they were done.

Me: You weren't out there very long. What did you do?
Kiddo: Not much.
Me: I'm not paying you for "not much".
Emo: But I did trim your hedges.
Kiddo: That's what she said.
Me: Eeew.
Emo & Kiddo: *hysterical laughter*
Emo: Seriously though. I trimmed them with that saw thing.
Me: The thing I told you not to use?
Emo: Yeah. I just kind of swung wildly at them.
Me: *horrified look* How are my hedges?
Kiddo: They're fine. I almost got cut but...
Me: Oh great!
Kiddo: Chill...I said ALMOST.
Me: Oh well then. I guess I can buy y'all a pizza as a reward for not chopping off a finger.
Emo: Sweet!

sigh

Come home soon, Captain Carl. I miss you and I don't know the way to the hospital.

UPDATE: The Captain just read this post and called to tell me he's pretty sure the hand saw thingy Emo was using was his $60 woodworking saw. Awesome.

And for those who were asking, the hedges look as though a wild animal mangled the tops of them. Good thing I hate those hedges.

And for the person who asked when they should expect their son to start playing with sharp objects from the garage...that pretty much starts the moment they can walk. Just because you haven't caught him doing it doesn't mean he isn't. Boys are so much fun, right? Because you never know when they'll be bleeding or broken or on fire. It's like you're on a game show where the prizes are moments of absolute terror followed by hours of anger and huge medical bills.

Rhymes With Mock Ding

It's Friday night, the lights are down and my wine glass is full. That's right, it's time for another sexy time review with Miss Yvonne. Wives, grab your husbands and husbands, give your wives your credit card.....it's on like Donkey Kong.

So Drew over at Eden Fantasys and I have been keeping in touch these last few months. He's all "Hey, your first review was so awesome" and I'm all "Tell me something I don't know" and he's all "How about I send you another toy to review?" and I'm all "How about I karate chop your mom in the throat?" and he's all "Excuse me?" and I'm all "You heard me, Walker" and he's all "Ummm...pardon?" and I'm all "See, you're Walker and I'm Texas Ranger. It's funny. Like in that Tallahassee Nights movie" and he's all "Okay so, the sex toy" and I'm all "What kind are you sending me this time, Medicine Woman??" and he's all "Are you on something?" and I'm all "Yeah, your mom's face" and I guess by then he figured out I was hilarious (yes) and totally kidding (no) so he's all "LOL. What would you like me to send?" and I'm all "Something that Captain Carl and I can use together".

And he totally listened to me and a month later this came in the mail.

A cock ring.

Drew sent me a cock ring. I was terrified of it. I held the package in my hand for about 10 minutes and giggled. Then I opened the box and started sweating when I realized I had no idea how to work it. I mean, I basically knew how it works...I figured the Captain's junk went through the hole and all that. But this thing had TWO holes. So the Captain and I spent another 10 minutes examining and trying to figure out what goes into which hole. We were not successful. But still geniuses.

Later that night after the Kiddo and the renters were safely tucked away upstairs, we retreated to the bedroom to try out our new ring du cock. Captain Carl grabbed the little guy from my sweaty grip and was all "Turn around" and I was all "Why?" and he was all "I don't want you to watch me put it on" and I was all "Why not?" and he was all "It's embarrassing" and I was all "No it's sexy" and he was all "I don't know how it works...nothing about this part will be sexy". So I turned around and listened to him mutter to himself....

"Okay, ummm...maybe through here first. Ouch! Damn it! Should have shaved my balls first....okay, maybe...maybe....shit!"

At this point he had begun panting from the effort and I was trying very very hard not to laugh...

"Oh wait! Like this! Hmmmm...motherfucker!!!"

And that's when I turned around and the poor Captain agreed to let me help. I suppose this part doesn't sound very sexy. But it kind of was. We were trying something new and different and that can be very sexy. It was also hilarious...to me. It was a little funny to the Captain at first, but like most situations we find ourselves in, it got less funny the more I laughed.

Luckily we figured it out and the cock ring was installed properly. Dudes, here's the best part. This thing has a vibrator. A little tiny vibrator...if you click the link above, it will be quite obvious to you that the spot the vibrator hits on the lucky lady is a very nice spot indeed.

This is the point in my review where I could get really graphic and even more inappropriate than I've already been. But I won't do that. Not because I have moral standards. Hell no. I won't only because I just spent 15 minutes writing it out and it ended up sounding like a really bad romance novel. There were lots of words like "pulsing" and "throbbing" and "lusty sighs of pleasure" and I'm sorry but if I'm going to write junk like that, I'm gonna be selling it to Harlequin and not wasting it on y'all.

So I certainly enjoyed the xtreme rabbit cock ring...oops sorry, I just realized they call it a "love ring" on the Eden Fantasys website. That's a way classier way to describe a "cock and balls device", don't you think?

Hey, do your partners a huge solid and head on over the Eden Fantasys. Order yourselves something nice. Maybe a nice cock and balls device. Or perhaps a Fulfill-a-fantasy flogger is more suited to your tastes. Or hell, it's almost Halloween...how about a naughty costume? Erotic nurse anyone??? Bonus points if you order anything from the Fall "blow out" sale. They have a plastic pussy that they call a "textured sleeve". Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude.

Just Go Ahead And Roll It In Chocolate, Already

So I'm trying to eat a little healthier these days. I've noticed that red meat isn't exactly, ummmm, agreeing with me lately. I think being "over 35" has fucked up my digestive system. I mean, I'm barely over 35...I'm not even 36 yet. But steak and hamburgers never bothered me before 35, so I'm thinking that must be the magical number when the body decides it's tired of your bullshit and starts demanding you take better care of it. So I've been trying to eat more chicken and fish (blech) and green, leafy vegetables and less pig and cow. Which sucks because pigs and cows are awesome and cute and totally delicious. And let me just put this out there...chicken and fish are ugly and boring and easily dry out. There are only so many ways to eat a fish before you just want to roll it in breadcrumbs and fry the little sons of bitches.

And then I went a little overboard with the green and leafy stuff a couple days ago and practically blew my colon right out of my body. Fucking spinach. I love spinach. I had no idea that eating spinach salad two days in a row would do that to me. What the hell, body? I'm being HEALTHY over here. Quit being a jerk! Thanks to you, I now break out in a sweat every time I see a vegetable. Asshole.

I also bought a bunch of healthier snacks on my last grocery run to keep in my cubicle at work. I'm a snacker. I could eat all day long if I let myself...and I do sometimes. But I figured almonds and dried cranberries and granola bars would be better for me than oh, say, Kit Kats and Doritos and Oreos. So I got these granola bars that say "Salty and Chewy" on the box and that sounded delish and also very very healthy because excuse me but hello? it says "granola" on the box. I completely blocked out the "salty" part...which is bad, considering that I already have a slight cholesterol problem and although I don't have it yet, high blood pressure does run in both sides of my family. But come on! Granola!

Yeah, these things are totally candy bars. I opened one today and the top is all cashew-y and caramel-y and I looked hard but barely saw any granolas in there and then the bottom is made of some kind of chewy and sweet substance that has absolutely no resemblance to anything made in nature. All it needs is a nougat center and I could call it a Salted Nut Roll. How the hell do they get away with calling these things granola bars and selling them in the cereal aisle?? They should be right next to the bags of mini-snickers and sour patch kids. Here I am, all trying to be healthy and shit and I totally got bamboozled by Nature Valley.

They were awesome, though. I ate two of them in 15 minutes.

Damn it.

UPDATED: The Elusive 150th

I've got 148 followers now. I told Captain Carl back in the spring that I wanted to hit 100 by the end of this year, so yea for me! However, I've been hovering around the mid-140's for weeks now and yes, I know it's probably partly somewhat kind of my own fault because I haven't been blogging and commenting much lately. But come on people, I'm still hilarious and awesome even if I'm around less.

So now I'm obsessed with hitting the 150 mark. I mean, Kim has more than 150 now. And Steamy and Vic and Kurt? Well hell, they've already gone way past 200....I'm choking on their follower dust. I'm just as funny and witty and good looking as all of them, right? Okay, maybe not quite as funny but I'm definitely as good looking and probably better in bed than all of them. Just sayin'.

I'm trying to figure out ways to boost my number. I'm pretty sure I need to get more sweary and sexy, which is an almost impossible task because I'm already damn sexy and very sweary. Very sweary. That should totally be a Hubba Bubba gum flavor. Do they still make Hubba Bubba? I chewed a lot of that shit in high school. Probably why I have the clicky jaw now. Thanks a lot Hubba Bubba. You suck. Unless you want to pay me for my soon-to-be-patented "Very Sweary" gum flavor. If you do, I'd like to consult on the wrapper design please....you'll need a catchy phrase to draw the kid's eyes. Like "Now With More Fucks And Shits!" or something like that. I'm pretty much a marketing genius. I'm like the Ted Danson of marketing. I don't even know what that means, but I am.

So back to how I'm going to get my 150th follower. I need suggestions. More renter stories? More renter sex stories? More renter pissing-me-off stories? A picture of Captain Carl smelling his back scratcher?

Ooooh! What if I offer the 150th follower a special surprise? Like maybe they give me the code to their voicemail and I change their message to say something like "This is Miss Yvonne and so-and-so is not available to speak with you. Because he probably can't stand you and saw your number come up and was all 'Oh shit, not that asshole again' and let it go to voicemail. Or because he's busy having sex with your mom. Leave a message, bitch!".

Or I could promise to post a video of me singing "Don't Cha" on drunk karaoke night when I hit 150. Or maybe I could share Captain Carl's recipe for the absolutely best lemon ice box pie you will ever eat in the history of eating pie (that's what she said). Or I could send the lucky follower a present and when they open it, it will be something awesome like a post-it note with a chewed piece of gum stuck to it or a caricature of me drawn by the Captain with me doing something cool like riding a unicycle or using a vibrator and also I'll make sure the package is marked "This box contains really offensive porn and sexy toys".

All that sounds pretty awesome, right? I'm sure I won't have any trouble getting to 150 now. I'll probably hit 170 in no time. And then in a couple weeks when I hit 300, I can be all "Suck it Steamy!" and "In your face Kim!" and "Take that Vic!" and "Bend over Kurt!" which he probably hears all the time anyway. But still.

UPDATE: Well apparently all I have to do is whine enough and I'll get what I want because guess what, y'all?! 150 followers. Boo ya. And what's even more awesome is that my 150th follower is called "vagiunta" which probably stands for something beautiful and meaningful but I'm going to say it's the Spanish word for cooter. That's what you get for following me, vagiunta. Sorry. Not really.

So now I have to get drunk this weekend and have the Captain video me singing "Don'cha". Just to make all my long-time followers happy. So quit yer bitchin'.

Now I'm off to whine about wanting to win the lottery.

Reason #37 Why Having Renters In Your House Sucks

You find out on Wednesday that Renty had drunk friends that you've never met over on Saturday while you and your husband were out of town and Marian walked in on them having sex in your media room.

Awesome.

Boys Are Gross

Sometimes Captain Carl scratches his balls with his back scratcher while he's watching tv. And then he smells it.

The End.

If There Isn't A Working Toilet, I'm Not Going

The weather is finally turning a little cooler down here in Texas. The air conditioner is not running at maximum capacity all day long and I no longer have to hold my boobs up and aim the fan under them to dry the sweat off.

Apparently this is the time of year that people go hunting, because my boss told me a story today about building a deer blind in his backyard for him and his 10 year old son to sit in while they wait to shoot Bambi with a cross bow. Did I mention his son is 10 years old? WTF? The South is crazy, yo. This child hasn't even gotten hair on his balls and his father gave him a deadly weapon that he can't even pick up by himself. Cue dueling banjos here.

This is also the time of year that makes Captain Carl want to go camping. He mentioned this to me the other day with a wistful note in his voice. He was all "This weather is awesome. I wish the Kiddo was younger so we could all go camping" and I was all "You can still go camping, I bet he'd like to go with you" and he was all "You could come too!" and I was all "Yeah. No." and he was all "Oh come on" and I was all "Unless camping involves a hotel room and room service, I'm not camping" and he was all "It will be romantic! We could get a separate tent from the Kiddo and have sex under the stars!" and I was all "That wouldn't be romantic. That would be dirty" and he was all "Yeah...dirty" and I was all "Not the good kind of dirty. The literal kind of dirty." and he was all "I bet you've never even gone camping before" and I was all "I have so and I woke up the next morning with mud under my fingernails and greasy hair and then I had to pee in a hole in the ground and that is why I will never go again" and he was all "You are so high maintenance" and I was all "Why don't you shut up and go eat some granola or something?".

I told him a few hours later that I changed my mind and he was all "Really?" and I was all "Yeah!" and he was all "Sweet, when do you want to go?" and I was all "Whenever you can rent the RV" and then he just stared at me and then walked off shaking his head.

Yeah, turns out Captain Carl likes to be "authentic" and sleep in a tent on the ground and not have a vehicle equipped with a shower and a bed and a refrigerator and a running toilet when he goes camping and I'm sorry but that is not called camping in my book. That is called getting lost in the woods and pooping without toilet paper and not having a mirror to check your makeup in and eventually having to eat the first person who dies because you ran out of s'mores and bottled water and refused to drink out of the stream because hello you have no idea what kind of bacteria and fish poop is in there!

I don't understand nature-y people.

I Shoulda Been A Stripper. And Also A Doctor. But Stripper Would Be Way More Fun. Probably.

Hurrah for awards! Hurrah for strippers! Hurrah for combining the two!

Little Miss Blogger apparently thinks so highly of me that she bestowed the I Shoulda Been A Stripper award upon me. Either that or she thinks I'd be really good at working the pole. And I am, baby...I am.

So I'm supposed to list 7 of my personality traits and then give the award to 7 other bloggers and also drive the bus and make sure I keep it above 55 or it will explode. Part of that was probably in a movie. I forget which part. I think it was the personality trait part.

Here's my 7 traits...read 'em and weep. Or be bored. Whichever, I really don't give a fuck.

1. Sweary - fuck you if you don't think that's a trait.
2. Anxious - all the fucking time.
3. Obsessive/Compulsive - this morning I check the freezer in our garage 3 times to make sure the door was shut. Don't even get me started on unplugging my hair straightener.
4. Hilarious - duh.
5. Giving - to a fault, people. To. A. Fault.
6. Did I list Sweary already? Shit.
7. Nice Smelling - okay that might be pushing it for a "trait", but my niece once told me I always smell nice and I will always cherish that as one of my favorite things about myself. So there.

Phew, glad that part is over. Now on to the next part. I'm giving this award to the following bloggers...

Prosy on Toast
Diamond Pewpin' Carnivore
Tater Tots for the Masses
Mean Girl Garage
The World Should Be Moisturized
Cooking Blind
Miss Chief's Blog

Dudes...I've got a new sex toy review coming up soon. It's gonna be awesome. And by "awesome" I mean "extremely uncomfortable to read". So yeah, be on the lookout for that hot mess.

I Do Really Important Shit At My Job. Really.

I just spent 45 minutes of company time having this conversation with two co-workers.

Me: Jadon just totally winked at me.
Jadon: I did?
Me: Yes, and you just winked at Anna too!
Anna: He did?
Jadon: That's gonna be my thing today.
Me: Winking?
Jadon: Yep.
Anna: Like that witch on that old tv show?
Me: Sabrina?
Jadon: No, that was the teenage witch. You're thinking of Samantha.
Me: Oh yeah.
Jadon: And Samantha had a daughter named Tabitha.
Me: And a husband named Deron.
Jadon: And there were two Derons.
Me: Right, but Anna means the genie show, not the witch show.
Anna: I do?
Jadon: Yeah, she used to blink her eyes to do her magic genie stuff.
Me: What was her name again?
Jadon: I don't know. Barbara something.
Me: No, her name on the show.
Anna: Genie?
Me: And her husband was....
Jadon: JR!
Me: No, that was his name on Dallas.
Anna: Wait, that guy was on the genie show?
Me: Yeah, but he was a lot younger then.
Anna: Well duh.
Me: Oh what was his name???
Jadon: Tony.
Me: No, that can't be right.
Jadon: Genie was also in Harper Valley PTA.
Me: That was a song.
Jadon: It was also a movie.
Me: Really?
Jadon: Yeah. Dolly Parton sang the song I think.
Me: Did she? I thought it was some other lady. The same one that sang that song about the kid on the bridge.
Anna: Huh?
Me: Hmmm mmmm, something something me and Bobby McGee. Or something like that.
Anna: I don't remember that song.
Jadon: Probably because you were an embryo when it was popular.
Anna: Yeah, you guys are old.
Me: They made a movie about that song too.
Jadon: Wasn't that guy with the mole in that movie?
Me: No, that was John Boy. It was the guy that was in the movie about the runner.
Jadon: The runner?
Me: Yeah, in the 70's. I don't know...he wore really short shorts and had long hair in it.
Jadon: Huh.
Anna: So anyway....
Me: *sigh* I suppose I should go back to work.

20 minutes later my phone rings

Me: Hello?
Jadon: Larry Hagman. Major Anthony Nelson.
Me: What?
Jadon: I Dream Of Genie. That was his name.
Me: Oh right! And he had that creepy friend. Crap....what was his friend's name again?
Jadon: Hmmmm....wasn't it Rog?
Me: That was What's Happening.
Jadon: I'm pretty sure it was Roger or Rog.
Me: Dyn-o-mite!
Jadon: That was Good Times.
Me: Oh shit.

I should totally get a raise.